


super fresh, now watch me jock

by snapchat



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Daniel talks too much about Overwatch, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, young professionals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapchat/pseuds/snapchat
Summary: 'Love is a Pain in the Ass' and other fun things you don't really learn in law school.





	super fresh, now watch me jock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pallavens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallavens/gifts).



There are worse places to be hiding whilst wearing a three-million won suit. 

“I don’t know,” Daniel says through Seongwoo’s very sweaty iPhone receiver. “The bathroom of The Westin Chosun is pretty embarrassing, if you ask me.” 

“I didn’t ask you,” hisses Seongwoo. “I asked my supportive best friend who’s supposed to guide me through this shit, not tear me down in every metaphysical way possible. Can I speak to him? Or have you murdered him in cold blood? His name’s Kang Daniel. I miss him already.” 

Daniel curses. And then all Seongwoo can hear are gratingly familiar, rapid clicking noises. Seongwoo almost forces his fist through the phone to strangle him.

“Tell me right now that you aren’t playing Overwatch while I’m doing the tango with certain death.”

“Uh,” says Daniel. “Listen, dude, it’s comp season—”

“Daniel, who do I have to fucking kill for you to stop jacking off to cowboys and start _helping me_.” 

“Oh my god?” Daniel sounds affronted. “That wasn’t even—that never happened? It happened once? I was _drunk_ , and objectively speaking, McCree _is_ kind of hot—”

Seongwoo’s phone vibrates angrily three times in succession and he feels his stomach drop because his sixth sense is telling him that it’s Boa, she’s angry, and he’s dead. In no particular order.

“I don’t even understand why you’re having a meltdown. Did I or did I not get a _KaTalk_ from you, literally, thirty-five minutes ago bragging in my face that your boyfriend-not-boyfriend texted you this morning saying he had a great time in lapslock _and_ with two heart emojis? You said you were in love? I thought we were celebrating? Why are you dying?” 

“You _see_ ,” Seongwoo grits out, “we _were_ celebrating until I walked into the annual gala telling Boa noona how _good_ I am at romance only to run into the world's most giant metaphorical middle finger ever. Imagine my shock and my displeasure when, at the sound of Attorney Park Kahi’s too-familiar voice, I dropped my shrimp ceviche on the shoe of _none other_ than Hwang Minhyun.” 

“Hwang Minhyun,” Daniel repeats. “Hwang Minhyun? That sounds familiar. Isn’t that the guy you’re datin—oh. Oh. _Oh_.”

It’s really just Seongwoo’s luck that the only apprentice of _his_ mentor’s number one rival is also the guy he's been head over heels for for the past three or so months, the same guy he made out with in the back of a luxury black taxi just last night in Cheongdam. 

“He looked so damn good in his suit, Daniel. God is genuinely punishing me for letting my guard down. This is divine punishment.” 

“Pretty sure this is blasphemy, actually,” Daniel mutters.

“I’m going to die,” Seongwoo announces, slamming his head against the door of the bathroom stall he’s locked himself in. “I am already dead.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Daniel says soothingly, only to ruin any semblance of Comfort he’s provided by proceeding to ask, “But, like, what ended up happening to the shrimp ceviche?” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

The story starts a little something like this. 

Ong Seongwoo graduates with honors, at the top of his class, from an all-boys high school in Cheongdam. Ong Seongwoo then proceeds to graduate with honors, at the top of his class, from Yonsei University. After that, Ong Seongwoo tackles the Seoul National University Law School and graduates with honors, at the top of his class. The dean of SNU Law is practically in tears when she realizes that Seongwoo is graduating and, by the law of associative property or something, _leaving_ SNU’s campus. It's a big deal at commencement. A lot of professors cry and ask him not to forget them. 

He’s that kind of student. 

The humble protagonist, Ong Seongwoo, eventually takes the bar exam. He scores in the ninety-ninth percentile and is one of fifteen-hundred people nationwide to be admitted to the Bar. Things are smooth sailing after that. He lands a job at the ever-prestigious KWON & LEE as a junior associate before being swept into partner Kwon Boa’s astute mentorship by the _Boa Constrictor_ , herself. 

He still remembers how he’d felt in that exact moment, one bite of sandwich suspended in time (and in his mouth) as Boa walked into the lunch room and said, in that very authoritative way of hers, _“I’m going to make you my protégé.”_ It really does feel just like yesterday that he nearly pissed himself in the pants trying to figure out how to say _yes_ and _of course_ before settling on _yes course._

Seongwoo has always been a dedicated person. Since youth, he’s had his eye on the prize, has pushed many a small child over to be the first one to get to the swings, if only to prove his dominance. It’s when he’s promoted from being a lowly junior associate to being a not-as-lowly-but-still-not-super-great _associate_ (it really, in the rawest sense, is just a change in title but a very minimal change in duties) that Seongwoo comes to the startling realization that—

 _“You have no hobbies,”_ Boa says. _“You have nothing to your name but your professional success. How many times do you call your parents in a week? Have you ever been in a relationship with something other than your textbooks?”_

(Looking back, she literally did say some _thing_ and not even some _one_ , which Seongwoo thinks he should probably not concede so easily in the near future.)

He’s a people-pleaser and he doesn’t want to disappoint his boss, so he goes out of his way to try to prove her wrong. Seongwoo finds hobbies. He’s a big fan of embroidery and traditional Korean instruments (a self-declared expert at the _buk_ ). He’s also a casual participant of wine tastings, and has, since his first one, mastered the art of slipping fifty-thousand _won_ bills to the sommelier to surreptitiously sneak Seongwoo a glass of whatever bottle tastes the most like grape juice. He calls his mom every day. She hates him for it and has since made it a habit to go out of the country as long as possible—one day for each KakaoTalk message he responds to with a phone call. 

_“Mom, I love you,”_ he'd once said. To which she had responded, _“Do you not have friends?”_

It takes a little longer and a little more effort, but eventually, Seongwoo levels up and dates something that is actually a living, breathing, human being. He’s dated before, sure, but he hasn’t _really dated_. Relationships from his school days don’t amount to much when nothing lasted more than a week. 

Courtesy of Jisung, who is just as desperate as Seongwoo is for Seongwoo to Please Interact with Human Beings That Won’t Pass You Business Cards Like They’re Drugs, he gets to meet a guy that doesn’t ask him intrusive questions about his academic or professional credentials. They get a nice dinner, go on a date or two to Cheonggyecheon at night, kiss perhaps one too many times (or not enough times) in too many indiscreet locations—

About ten, give or take a couple, dates later, Seongwoo figures they’re _practically_ married and if their lives outside of each other were ever any cause for concern, they haven't seemed and still don't seem like such at any point in time. 

That is, up until.

Well, uh.

Now?

“Do you two know each other?” Attorney Park, otherwise known as _Kahi_ , asks casually, draping her knees with her cloth napkin. She glances up from her plate, gaze expectant. It’s apparent that she’s asking the question to _Seongwoo_ , which is, frankly, fucking aggressive when Seongwoo’s already busy trying not to shit his pants because Minhyun is staring at him like he’s been betrayed in every way possible. 

“No?” Seongwoo squeaks out. Nice. _Way to make it clear as fuck that you’re lying, Ong Seongwoo._ He clears his throat and says, purposefully lowering his voice, “No, no. I—no?” 

Boa raises a brow. 

“We don’t,” Minhyun clarifies and fuck him for being more composed than Seongwoo will ever be. Fuck him also for seriously knowing how to wear a suit. “I would recognize him if we’d met before.” 

“Where did you go to school again?” Boa looks at Minhyun and Seongwoo can tell she’s sizing him up, making a mental pros and cons list to determine who—between Minhyun and Seongwoo—would win in an impromptu courtroom battle right here and right now. 

(The answer is Seongwoo, but he’s a little too preoccupied with the crumbling of his world to say much.)

“Korea University,” replies Minhyun. “For both undergrad and law school.” 

“And you?” Kahi presses on.

“Seoul National for law,” Seongwoo says, and his tone’s finally evened out, the initial anxiety turning into unbridled energy, which might be worse—he isn’t sure yet. “Yonsei for undergrad.” 

“Impressive. _Boa_ does have a preference for prestige.”

Boa smiles sweetly. “I was under the impression that prestige came naturally with well-deserving credentials. It’s a shame you’re implying your own protégé lacks both, _Kahi_.” 

“Oh, you’re too cute. Are you putting words in my mouth again because you never know what to do with the ones that are already in there?”

The rivalry between KWON & LEE and PARK & HAN has been ongoing since the latter’s inception almost ten years ago. It’s always been an uphill battle to make a name for a brand-new firm in a field as competitive as law and both parties have been recognized internationally for their quality and cutthroat results. Their similar patterns of growth and similar concentrations lead to an inevitable butting of heads.

What Seongwoo is witnessing before him is his first real life encounter with an age-long contention that he’s only been a part of by proxy. He’s been to galas before, sure, but the most Boa had done with Kahi back then was narrow her eyes from across the room like she’d seen something pitiful. 

He steals a glance to try and gauge Minhyun’s expression and finds, to his relief, that this is mildly terrifying for the both of them. 

“I,” Seongwoo says, purposeful as he throws on the winning smile that always gets him extra _tteokbeokki_ from his favorite street stall, “need to get going. I see Mr. Yang in the distance and I better try and say hello before he has that eighth glass of wine.” 

Minhyun flounders, and despite the fact that Seongwoo would really prefer not to include the person that he is also technically avoiding by default, he’s still weak, a romantic at heart, and not so heartless as to abandon a fallen soldier (in a really nice suit) in the midst of combat.

“Minhyun, you haven’t said hello to him either, have you?” Seongwoo grins tersely, rising from his seat and raising his brows. “Shall we? Leave the partners to catch up?”

“Right,” Minhyun agrees immediately with a canned laugh, following suit and nearly stumbling to Seongwoo’s side. “You’re right. Then, ah, we’ll leave you to it.” 

Kahi and Boa don’t even break eye contact, fighting a silent battle that Seongwoo wants absolutely nothing to do with. He also wants absolutely nothing to do with Yang Hyunsuk, who is most certainly past Glass Eight of red wine and while that alone is terrifying, having to listen to him try to convince Seongwoo to jump ship and join his firm in that annoying voice of his is more so. 

The telepathic signals that Seongwoo attempts to send to Minhyun, however, are lost to the crowd and by the time they’ve made it a comfortable distance from their bosses, Minhyun is genuinely—bless his naïve, naïve soul—heading straight for Mr. Yang. It’s probably not the best move right now given their circumstances but Seongwoo reaches out abruptly, fingers curling around Minhyun’s elbow to pull him back. 

Minhyun startles, skidding to a stop and craning his head, eyes wide in mild alarm. “What?” He’s polite even as he gently wriggles himself free from Seongwoo’s grip. “What is it?”

“You shouldn’t,” Seongwoo starts. “He never shuts up once he’s drunk. Uh, come on. Follow me.” 

“Why would I do that?” Minhyun asks. And, to be totally fair, Seongwoo doesn’t have a decent enough response except _This gala is full of sharks and you look like an unfairly attractive minnow in that suit_. “Are we going to talk about—about _this_?” 

Seongwoo fidgets, sees Mr. Yang making dangerous moves closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Park Jinyoung, too, and he thinks that as much as he’d like to avoid breaking up with Minhyun face-to-face (or like, at all, because he'd really rather not throw a break-up into the cataclysmic mix that is His Life right now), he figures sooner is the same thing as later and misery loves company (and other misused idioms). 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Okay. _Can we go now?_ ” 

The muted consternation written into Minhyun’s frown nearly forces Seongwoo to use him as tribute to dodge having to explain to Mr. Yang what his last name is for the fiftieth time but then, by some miracle of an unspoken god, Minhyun nods and makes moves to follow. 

They move in silence and to be quite honest, the Westin Chosun isn’t where the annual gala usually is so Seongwoo doesn’t have access to secret suites or special private lounges. 

Which means the only place they really have to “talk” in “private” is the bathroom, and Seongwoo is still uncertain about how he feels about pigeonholing himself to the lavatory when he’s technically supposed to be out there convincing people that he’s Boa’s Chosen One for a god damn reason. 

“The bathroom,” Minhyun deadpans. “We’re going to talk in the bathroom.”

“Got any better ideas? Want to talk about the fact that we’re Romeo and Juliet-ing when it’s the twenty-first century and Shakespeare should be dead for being a fraud-ass-bitch in the lobby? Why don’t we invite the busboy to join our conversation while we’re at it?” Seongwoo huffs. And then he pauses in the middle of loosening his tie. “I—okay, sorry. My frustration might have been a little misguided there. I just—I’m realizing, in retrospect, that it probably would have been better to be more transparent with each other _before_ we started dating.” 

“I showed you my dick,” Minhyun whispers, mostly to himself, sounding incredibly strained. There is a choice amount of hurt in his eyes that makes Seongwoo feel even worse about the fact that his gaze automatically flickers to Minhyun Down Under. “I showed you in confidence. I _trusted_ you.” 

“It, what? It was nice?” Seongwoo stammers out. “I appreciated it? It was, uh, I don’t know, I thought it was a beautiful moment. Why does the fact that we’re—the, uh, the fact that we’re, well, um…”

“ _Mortal enemies_?” 

“That’s—” Seongwoo clears his throat. “That sounds about right.”

“Go on,” Minhyun urges, arms crossed against his chest.

“Why does,” Seongwoo tries again, trailing off feebly. “Why does the fact that we’re “ _mortal enemies_ ” or whatever,” he says emphatically, air-quoting as insistently as possible without being Confrontational, “have to compromise the very beautiful, one-of-a-kind relationship we’ve built up?”

“Seongwoo, you literally have pictures of my dick on your phone. I don’t know you well enough that I can say I trust you not to use them against me.” 

The distress on Minhyun’s face is, for starters, reasonable, but Seongwoo’s offended anyway. “Do I look like I’d use your dick pics against you in a court of law?” he demands. “Maybe in a private conversation when a potential client’s asking me why to choose KWON & LEE over PARK & HAN, but in public? Never! They're precious to me.” 

The joke, Seongwoo realizes, is not executed very well because Minhyun’s deep-seated concern only grows impossibly deeper. 

“That was a joke,” Seongwoo notifies him. Minhyun only groans. “Okay. Alright. Maybe not the time. I get it.”

“Seongwoo,” Minhyun says again, the desperate twinge to his voice drawing him out of his momentary reverie. “We can’t keep meeting. I had a really good time these past few months getting to know you, but it’s a serious conflict of interest if I keep dating you while shadowing Kahi noona for this upcoming M&A. You should be thinking about your career too. I _know_ for a fact that our competitor in securing this client right now is—”

“Us,” Seongwoo sighs out. “As usual. I know too, because haha, guess who’s shadowing Boa noona?” 

Minhyun purses his lips together and shakes his head. “See? We can’t keep doing this. It’s—it’s a good thing our paths crossed today. Imagine how much messier it would have been if we hadn’t met tonight and we’d found out on our one-hundred-day anniversary or something.”

Pin-drop silence. Seongwoo clears his throat. “You thought that far ahead?” he asks, a little touched.

The flush swept across Minhyun’s cheeks is ridiculously endearing. “That’s not the point,” he mutters. “The point is we can’t see each other anymore. I’m sorry, but my career— _your_ career isn’t worth jeopardizing over a relationship.” 

He doesn't really get how Minhyun can make split-second decisions as big as this one on the fly but maybe Seongwoo's the strange one for feeling a little heartbroken about the only person he's ever really had Feelings with a capital Feel for in his life.

 _Haha,_ he thinks to himself. _This fucking sucks._

“We could be friends,” Seongwoo suggests brightly, hopefully. “It just kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth having to cut a guy I kind of sort of really like out of my life immediately. I might go through withdrawal symptoms, you know?” he jokes.

Minhyun must empathize because the furrow between his brows softens and he sighs faintly, running a hand through his hair. “We can be friends,” he agrees, taking a few steps forward toward the door. Palm pressed against the surface, Minhyun says, in parting, “But _just_ friends.”

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

 **Ong Seongwoo:** dude  
**Ong Seongwoo:** friends can send each other selfies right  
**Ong Seongwoo:** if i sent you a selfie it wouldn’t be weird  
**Ong Seongwoo:** right????????  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Uhhhhhh I guess?  
**Kang Daniel:** I don’t want one tho  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** [ATTACHMENT]  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Cool thanks  
**Kang Daniel:** Nice… eyebrows?  
**Kang Daniel:** ??  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** okay next question  
**Ong Seongwoo:** can you platonically ask someone what they’re wearing  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Really not a fan of where this is going  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** like in a sexy way maybe  
**Ong Seongwoo:** lowkey sexy?  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Just  
**Kang Daniel:** Keeps getting worse wow  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** last question  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Please no more questions  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** if i sent you a picture of my dick or sth like as a friend  
**Ong Seongwoo:** how would you feel objectively  
**Ong Seongwoo:** like WHAT exactly are my boundaries as your friend  
  
**Kang Daniel:** block contact iphone 7  
**Kang Daniel:** Oops sorry ignore that  
**Kang Daniel:** Block contact iphone 7  
**Kang Daniel:** Fuck sorry ignore that

 

Seongwoo hears, faintly, in the distance, Daniel asking Siri: “Siri, how do I block a complete dumbass from texting me?” 

“Sure, _Danik Yeah_ , I can block Kim Dumbass for you.”

“Oh shit, oh shit, wait, wait, wait, that’s Jaehwan. Hold on, Siri—”

 

 **Ong Seongwoo:** hey Kang Dumbass i can fucking hear you 

 

Quiet. And then footsteps. And then the sound of Seongwoo’s bedroom door flying open. Daniel stands in the doorway, looking wholeheartedly unimpressed. “Am I in the wrong to feel _wronged_ by the fact that you never talk to me face-to-face when we _live together_ , but you have the audacity to threaten me with pictures of your dick through text? After all we’ve been through? After all of the _You guys aren’t dating?_ comments we’ve endured? As _brothers_?” 

“I wasn’t threatening you,” Seongwoo drawls out, rolling onto one side of his bed. “You’re so dramatic.”

Daniel lets out a patronizing sigh before stalking into Seongwoo’s room, flopping over onto the unoccupied half of the bed. “Can you just tell me what’s bothering you instead of doing that thing?” 

“What _thing_?”

“That thing where you make everything into a bad joke and I have to wonder whether you’ve really lost it this time around or not.” 

Seongwoo sighs too, louder. 

“Is this about Minhyun?” Daniel yawns, uncouth as always. “You never told me what happened with the shrimp ceviche. Or him, which might be more important? Maybe?” 

He’s a little sad that their former third roommate, Jisung, is soul-searching in Brazil right now. Not only is Daniel unbearably clingy as a result, but the lack of secure and stable emotional guidance is definitely taking a toll on Seongwoo’s overall well-being. He can only take so much advice in the form of gaming metaphors that he’ll never truly understand before the world dims and becomes a dark, dark place. 

That being said, he’s grateful (begrudgingly, maybe, but grateful nonetheless) that Daniel is trying his best in the stead of someone that they both miss (for different reasons). 

“I mean, what the hell are you _supposed_ to do when you find out meeting the guy that you’re high-key into is a conflict of interest that would probably impede your rationality when working?” Seongwoo drags his hands down his face in silent agony. “Made even worse, perhaps, when you realize after the fact and after the pseudo-break-up that the world is cruel and maybe you really did have feeling- _feelings_ for this dude and not just passive 'Oh no, he's hot!' feelings.” 

“Oh no,” whispers Daniel.

“I panicked when he said we should just stop seeing each other and asked if we could be friends,” Seongwoo announces with a stiff laugh. “So. We’re just _friends_.”

Daniel is quiet. “At least you’re still friends?” he suggests with an uneasy laugh. “That sucks. I’m sorry.” 

“He texted me first thing today saying _good morning_. Isn’t that foul play? I was so stuck between saying _fuck you_ and _fuck me_ that I just texted back _fuck?_ There has to be a rule against this.”

“Well, you did ask to be friends.” Daniel scratches his cheek, looking genuinely contemplative as Seongwoo thrashes around in his bed like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. “Friends can do good morning texts, I guess. Speaking of texts, maybe we should text Jisung hyung about this. I feel like I’m unintentionally making you more miserable than is acceptable.”

Both Seongwoo and Daniel know that Daniel, however much he actually cares about Seongwoo, is also fishing for reasons to text Jisung, more than anything.

“Tell me you’ve read some weird Overwatch fanfiction in the darkest corners of the Internet that decree that I’ll get my happy ending someday.” 

“A while back, Taewoong hyung wrote a McCree and Genji one that was, like, modern-day Romeo and Juliet,” Daniel offers. “It had a happy ending.”

“Sure. I’ll take it. Which one am I?” 

“Uh, maybe Genji?” 

Seongwoo, who has never in his life beaten a single video game, let alone thrived in one, only closes his eyes. “Why Genji?” he asks, despite not really knowing who Genji is in the first place. Maybe if he was less emotionally exhausted he’d be offended that Daniel didn’t consider him worthy of being his #MancrushMonday cowboy. 

“Well, for starters,” Daniel muses pensively, “you really need healing.” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

Healing probably isn’t fraternizing with the enemy as though nothing is wrong at a customary Tuesday night Wine & Painting class in Gangnam. 

“We were supposed to be painting a sunset,” Minhyun says, amusement apparent in his tone as he looks at Seongwoo’s finished product, which is nothing more than an abstract Jackson-Pollock-would-be-jealous smattering of reds, oranges, and yellows. “You’re going to get in trouble again for not following the directions.” 

It’s not that Seongwoo was actively trying not to follow directions. It’s just a little hard to concentrate on an idyllic past-time when he’s too busy trying to convince himself that it _isn’t_ the most egregious injustice in the world that Minhyun’s side profile isn’t something he can take a picture of and tag with _bae♥♥♥♥♥_ anymore.

“Free country,” Seongwoo replies with a shrug, reaching out to take the last sip of Minhyun's glass of wine (also known as Seongwoo’s Second Glass of Wine). He steps back and pretends to admire his painting. It looks like someone dropped paint bottles by accident on an empty canvas, but Seongwoo keeps that revelation to himself. “I won’t let the authorities crush my free spirit.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Minhyun laughs. “Just admit that art isn’t your strongest suit.” 

“All of my suits are strong,” Seongwoo says with an exaggerated smile, tugging the smock from his neck. “They’re Gucci.”

“Ridiculous,” repeats Minhyun. “Anyway, hey, did you want to grab dinner?” 

Seongwoo is having difficulty wrapping his mind around how easy it seems to be for Minhyun to pretend like they weren’t doing this same shit one week ago except with knees touching, fingers flirting, and kisses unsparingly exchanged before, during, and after the ‘date.’ Sure, this isn’t technically a date if they’re just friends, but it shouldn’t be an effortless, over-night thing to look at someone you might have once thought of as a _lover_ as _just a friend._

Or maybe Seongwoo’s the strange one. Maybe he’s the oddball in all of this, and maybe it’s stranger, still, that he can’t seem to shake off the lingering feeling of wanting to reach out and close the gap. 

“Sure,” he says. “Limited alcohol, though. I’m not going to let you trick drunk and defenseless me into feeding you company secrets, Hwang Minhyun.” 

“I would never do that,” Minhyun says sincerely, expression sobering into one that is a little too genuine for Seongwoo’s heart. “Never ever.” 

“I know, I know.” Seongwoo snickers. He stretches his arms, trying his hardest to look incredibly nonplussed about the many different opportunities to _talk things out_ that he’s just blatantly and adamantly choosing to ignore. “I’m surprised you have time to meet up with mortal enemies when we’re supposed to be neck-deep in work right about now.” 

“Don't complain,” comes the easy reply. “I know you like my company, Seongwoo.”

And it's extra unfair because he does. He _does_ like Minhyun's company, particularly when they're not trapped in fancy hotels pretending to be people that they never were during any of their multiple dates.

It’s chillier than anticipated outside and Seongwoo glances at Minhyun, takes ample note of the way Minhyun's jaw clenches and his shoulders hunch in an immediate response to the cold. Maybe if this were a week ago, he’d inch closer, offer a pocket or a jacket with a love-struck grin on his face.

“Cold?” he asks instead. “Want my jacket?” 

“I’m fine,” Minhyun replies politely. 

Seongwoo stares at him, squaring him up before ultimately shrugging his jacket off and tossing it in Minhyun’s direction in the most platonic _I would do this for Daniel_ way that he can muster up. “Out of the kindness in my heart,” he says, in lieu of a real explanation. 

Their general dynamic throughout the night has been tight-lipped, cordial amicability. Where Seongwoo expects a faint but highly restrained laugh, he instead gets quiet. Minhyun’s boring holes into the jacket in his hands like it’s offended him personally, and it takes a few seconds before he realizes Seongwoo is staring.

“Thank you,” he says quickly, fixing a smile onto his lips. He tugs it on quietly and shifts his hands into the pockets too naurally. “Oh,” he murmurs. 

“What?”

Minhyun stills before pulling his right hand out of said pocket, a single crumpled movie ticket from four weeks ago sitting in his palm offensively. “Is this trash?” he asks, nose wrinkling. 

Seongwoo’s mouth feels dry as he reaches out, swiping it from Minhyun’s hand with a sheepish laugh. “No,” he says. And then, because he thinks it might be better than having to explain, “Actually, sure. Let’s say it’s trash.” 

Four weeks ago, they’d stumbled into a showing of a shitty American rom-com at the CGV in Sinchon and held hands and kissed for the first time. They’d done a lot of other sentimental things that night—a handful of pictures taken in old-school photo-booths at the neighborhood arcade and a celebratory stuffed animal won from the crane gane that's probably in Minhyun’s trash by now to commemorate the night. He has a strip of pictures or two somewhere in his room underneath the stack of work papers that’s supposed to remind him that this is what’s best for them. 

He’d forgotten about the movie ticket and his wrist twitches when they pass a trash can, but Seongwoo doesn’t toss it. 

Minhyun is quiet and Seongwoo pretends he doesn’t know that _Minhyun_ knows exactly what it is now. 

“Hey, Seongwoo?” Minhyun calls out from a half-step behind him, picking his stride up ever-so-slightly until they’re walking shoulder-to-shoulder. “Can I apologize to you?” 

Seongwoo almost flinches. “Apologize for what?” he asks, nervous laughter filtering in and out between his words. 

He’ll be honest. It fucking sucks being the only one that appears to be still-stupid and still-in-love and still-clinging onto things that, evidently, aren’t meant to be. He’s gone through objectively harder things in his life. For starters, his parents’ divorce wasn’t fun and the Bar Exam wasn’t really what he’d call a breeze. 

But right now, in this exact instant, nothing is harder than looking Hwang Minhyun in the eye and reading something akin to pity in his gaze. 

Honest opinion? Seongwoo hates it. 

“I didn’t really…” Minhyun trails off. “I didn’t really give you much time to talk when we—when we decided to part ways. After thinking about it, I realized that I said a lot of things impulsively because I was nervous and startled and looking back, I probably could have gone about everything in a much kinder manner.” 

Honest opinion? Seongwoo _doubts_ it. The break-up would have broken his heart into smithereens regardless of how delicately Minhyun cushioned his words. In the moment, he hadn't been able to process it, but the evening at home was spent shoveling Basken Robbins ice cream into his mouth while contemplating the futility of emotion.

“I’m really sorry,” Minhyun repeats. “I’m sorry for hurting you and I’m sorry for being impulsive and, well, uh, a little mean? But if you just give me some time, I thought that maybe we could f—”

“It’s fine,” Seongwoo interjects quickly, not even processing half of what Minhyun’s said after his first apology. “I mean, I’m fine. Does it look like I’m hurting? It’s been a solid week, you know. I’m not the type of person to get hung up on every tiny, insignificant thing.” He’s talking _too quickly_ , words falling from his lips before he even makes sense of what he’s saying. “You don’t have to apologize, really. I’ve already moved on, found a hot dude that even Michael B. Jordan would tremble in the company of, and I’m A-OK being friends with you without acknowledging what we used to be. We’re good, aren’t we?”

He deserves a smile. A laugh. _Something_ to commend him for how haplessly he's thrown himself under the bus. But he doesn't get any of those things. Minhyun swallows thickly, as though he's at a loss for words. The faintest glimmer of hurt on his face sends a pang across Seongwoo’s heart and he feels too confused, too lost for the nth time that night at what he could have possibly done wrong _now_. 

“Right,” Minhyun says hollowly. “Uh, yeah. You’re right.” He licks his lips—nervous habit that Seongwoo’s taken note of over the past three months or so—and then smiles again, something professional, practiced, carefully constructed. “We’re good.” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

 **Kang Daniel:** I asked Jisung hyung for advice  
**Kang Daniel:** Also bc I was looking for an excuse to talk to him but  
**Kang Daniel:** He said you should just be honest and tell Minhyun that  
**Kang Daniel:** You like him too much  
**Kang Daniel:** (Jisung hyung voice) Honesty is sexii  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** uh  
**Ong Seongwoo:** i just told him i’m over him and also that i  
**Ong Seongwoo:** have a boyfriend?  
**Ong Seongwoo:** that looks like michael b jordan?  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Oh hm  
**Kang Daniel:** Okay I’m just going to start from the top again and let’s figure out where the fuck I lost you  
**Kang Daniel:** (- Yoon Jisung, 2018)

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

Contact with Minhyun doesn’t change, at first glance. They stop talking every day for a short while when both of their workloads spike up considerably, but even after that, everything’s cordial and fine and exactly what you’d expect out of a purely platonic relationship with negative romantic emotion. 

Ha. Haha. _Ha._

But that’s just at first glance. Ong Seongwoo, ever the overachiever, never stops himself at the first glance. He takes three-hundred thousand glances in a day before feeling satisfied enough to sleep easy at night. 

So, yeah, contact with Minhyun doesn’t change, at first glance—but it does change at second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on. 

Something about Minhyun is inherently closed-off these days. It’s nearly imperceptible but his messages seem clipped, seem canned, _practiced_ , and Seongwoo is almost positive that if he hadn’t spent so much time being foolishly enamored (past-tense is a funny thing that he thinks might just be a social construct) and memorizing every insignificant little ‘Minhyun Thing’ about Hwang Minhyun, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

But he did. And to be honest, still does. So, he notices.

And it bothers him.

“Where did this competition come from anyway?” Seongwoo asks aloud, currently reclining upside-down on the nice leather couch in Boa’s office. “Maybe the real merger and acquisition was the rivals we made along the way.” 

Boa sets her pen down atop her desk purposefully. “Seongwoo,” she begins sweetly, “you know I hate when people talk in circles to me.” 

“I’m just saying,” he drawls. “There could be miserable mid-level associates out there trying to live their lives and fall in love but they can’t because competition is cutthroat and this is a dog eat dog world. _Woof woof_. Catch that? That was dog for _I hate my life._ ” 

In response, Boa begins to massage her temples. 

“Do we really need this client?” Seongwoo continues. The blood rush to his head is, maybe, doing very little for the flow of thoughts he’s trying to facilitate. “What if we just shut down the firm and quit our jobs and lived idyllic lives as mountain-dwellers? Weren't humans hunter-gatherers or something? We can eat mountain mushrooms and either thrive or die. It's a win-win situation.” 

“Based on the way you are continuing to talk in circles,” Boa comments with an unimpressed expression, “I’m assuming this isn’t something you feel comfortable speaking candidly to me about.” 

“Aaaaand _Bingo_ was his name-o.” 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to speak in a way I’ll understand,” she says. The usual edge to her voice is absent and Seongwoo knows she’s trying her very best to be there for him not only as a boss, but also as his surrogate older sister. She's good at being both things; Seongwoo's just immature. “So?”

“I,” Seongwoo starts, with gusto, “might have fallen in love with someone that is currently under the iron-grip tutelage of Attorney Park.” 

Boa _hm_ s once before picking her pen up again, returning her attention to the documents she’d been working on. What this _hm_ means is up for discussion. Seongwoo, himself, is entirely unsure and he’s also too scared to ask. 

“Great talk,” he grumbles.

“This isn’t my place to say anything,” Boa replies primly, even though it _really fucking should be_ as his boss. In reality, he knows it actually isn't her responsibility or her place. Boa's remarkably good at staying in her lane and Seongwoo is even better at swerving into others'.

Seongwoo groans, and he feels himself sliding off of the couch slowly but surely, but he does nothing to try to stall his eventual demise and the inevitable neck pain of tomorrow. This is hubris, probably.

“I mean it,” she says. The glide of her pen sounds conclusive. He's come to associate the noise with finished contracts. “How you choose to balance your personal life and your work life is entirely up to you and not at my discretion. I’m your boss and your mentor, but only in this building and in any work-related matter outside of this building. Who you fall in love has nothing to do with my job or my responsibilities.” She doesn't even look up at him. “I don't get paid enough to teach you how to take risks responsibly.”

He collides with the floor, crumpling into a ball on Boa’s animal-friendly faux fur rug. “What?” Seongwoo isn’t positive if he’s hearing Boa correctly because it almost sounds like she’s encouraging him to challenge what _conflict of interest_ really means. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t like repeating myself, Seongwoo,” she tells him. “I’m only saying that there’s a reason why I don’t talk about my significant other in the workplace and I haven’t had any issues becoming partner.”

“What,” Seongwoo whispers to himself.

Boa stands up from her desk and walks straight to where Seongwoo is still sort-of-upside-down on her floor. She bends over, crouching down, and Seongwoo gets mild vertigo from the flip-flopped image of his mentor and his beloved sister figure’s tight-lipped, and, well, terrifying, smile. 

“Figure it out,” Boa orders. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that while sorting documents tonight.” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

He does sort the documents, but he doesn’t quite figure it out.

In fact, Seongwoo is so ashamed of not being able to _figure it out_ that he avoids talking to Boa about anything vaguely personal (ever again!), and he also actively goes out of his way to delete his text messages with Minhyun in a futile attempt at stopping himself from overanalyzing them. 

At one point, Minhyun asks him how he and his new boyfriend are doing and Seongwoo barrages him with the most adorable emoticons he can find in a feeble attempt at distracting him.

It's safe to say that for a few long days, borderline weeks, Seongwoo does everything _but_ figure it out. And, quite frankly, he doesn't think there's anything for him to actually figure out.

Until one morning he wakes up to former U.S. President Barack Obama’s voice saying _KakaoTalk!_ and sees a message from Minhyun that reads, concisely and simply: 

**Hwang Minhyun:** I thought about it and as it turns out, I don’t think I can do this ‘friends’ thing anymore. 

“Oh,” Seongwoo says groggily to the bird spectating sympathetically from his windowsill.

So. This is the universe telling him to seriously, _seriously_ , figure it out. 

Well, fuck. 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

“Um,” is the first thing Daniel says to him after waking Seongwoo up at fuck o’clock in the morning. 

“I’ll murder you,” is the first thing Seongwoo says to Daniel in response after being woken up at fuck o’clock in the morning. 

It’s still dark out. That’s how _morning_ it is, and for someone like Seongwoo who went to bed _in the morning_ , it’s more offensive than it would be on any other regular day that he’s presently conscious and not the closest thing to dead that he can possibly be without being at risk of missing his evening meeting tomorrow. Today. 

“We need to talk,” Daniel continues, looking exceptionally ridiculous in his pink heart emblazoned pajama pants and ratty old Mickey Mouse hoodie. The serious look in his eyes does not reflect the fact that he is dressed like a toddler that has weathered too many wars in the Disney store. 

“It’s four in the morning,” Seongwoo tells him, just in case Daniel has lost his grasp of time—which has happened on multiple occasions.

“I know,” Daniel replies, hovering over Seongwoo’s very sedentary body anxiously. “Get up, dude. We have to talk.”

 _It’s four in the morning_ , Seongwoo thinks. It’s four in the morning, he went to sleep at half past _three_ , and no one in the world seems to understand why Seongwoo is disgruntled. He thinks to put on his lawyer face and talk some sense into Daniel because he’s sure whatever the hell this is about can wait _two_ more hours, but he’s tired, incoherent, and too easily swayed by these weird moments when Daniel is strangely serious to actually muster up a protest.

He sits up and lets out a long sigh. “What,” Seongwoo demands.

Daniel looks left and right, as though readying himself to share a deadly secret. He sits down at the edge of Seongwoo’s bed and inhales, exhales. “So,” he begins with a shudder, “I was playing LoL, waiting for one of my friends to get back from a ‘predicament’ he had or something. I don’t really know. We had plans to play together and then he said he had to talk to someone. Anyway, that’s not important.” 

“Then why did you—”

“Anyway,” Daniel says again. “My friend comes back and things are, seemingly, totally fine. I say, ‘Hey Bugi, what’s up?’”

“Hold up,” Seongwoo interrupts, lifting one hand. “Your friend’s name is _Bugi_? Who named him?”

“That’s his alias,” replies Daniel, followed by a frustrated groan. “I don’t know-know him, I just know he’s really good at playing Janna and Lucio.” 

“Okay, so you were playing Super Mario—”

“That’s Luigi. Seriously? Keep up.”

“Daniel,” Seongwoo sighs out, “I really don’t fucking care. Can you get to the point?” 

“Patience. The build-up is scary and important.” Daniel inhales and exhales again. Seongwoo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I’m like, ‘Hey Bugi, what’s up?’ And I guess the poor dude seriously needed someone to vent to because he just—he just starts, like, _unloading_ a thousand years’ worth of grievances on me. He’s all, ‘My job fucking sucks, I practically babysit my roommates, my best friend keeps giving me cleaning supplies as birthday presents, and to top it all off, he’s being the biggest god damn idiot about his already sorry love life.’”

“Okay.” Seongwoo narrows his eyes suspiciously. “And?” 

“Yeah.” Daniel continues, entirely unfazed, “So, I tell him, ‘Wow, that sucks. I can really relate to the last one though!’ which apparently comes off as an invitation? Because he just, like. Man, if I thought the floodgates opened twenty seconds ago, this was the actual flood that they wrote about in the Bible and stuff. He starts writing in really angry caps, which, you don’t know Bugi, but he’s a very chill person so this is _monumental_. He was like, ‘You would think that a god damn lawyer from Korea University would have some common sense and learn to be a normal human being after being throttled into the professional world for years!’”

Seongwoo doesn’t like where this is going. “Okay,” he says anyway. “… And?”

“Naturally, I tell him that my friend—you—is literally the exact same as his friend. At this point, I’m worried that I’m talking to a future version of myself or something. I watched a sci-fi movie last night that’s been making me think that this galaxy really is too small for just on this planet, you know? Anyway, that’s not important. Back to Bugi. He tells _me_ that he’s sorry, blah blah, and then, word-for-word, I kid you not: ‘It’s just frustrating because my friend knows that he’s in love with this guy but that guy’s moved on and doesn’t feel the same way anymore.’” 

“That,” Seongwoo chokes out, voice taking on a much higher pitch than intended, making him sound more defensive than he actually feels (or wants Daniel to think he feels), “has nothing to do with me? You don’t even know who this guy—”

“AND THEN,” Daniel says, louder, “I ask him what his friend’s name is, and guess what?”

“This is so stupid,” complains Seongwoo.

“Guess what!”

“I’m not going to—”

“It’s Hwang Fucking Minhyun.” 

There’s a lurch in Seongwoo’s stomach, something sinking to his gut as sleep leaves him in one giant burst and he is left too conscious and too hyperaware of what Daniel’s told him and what this might imply.

He shouldn’t have woken up. Nothing good comes out of conversations held at four in the morning. 

“All of this coming from a guy that literally refers to himself as _Turtle_.”

“Hwang Minhyun,” repeats Daniel, sounding awed. “ _Hwang Minhyun_.” 

“It could be a different Hwang Minhyun,” Seongwoo suggests weakly.

“Okay, sure, but what if it isn’t?” Daniel grunts, clearly exasperated, as he grabs Seongwoo by the shoulders and looks him squarely in the eyes. “You’re sad, Hwang Minhyun is probably sad, and there’s really nothing you could lose from talking to him about it. Just bring it up. Ask him—”

“I can’t,” mutters Seongwoo.

“What?”

“I _can’t_ ,” Seongwoo repeats. “Yesterday morning, I got a KakaoTalk message from Minhyun.” 

Daniel presses his lips together to keep from interrupting. 

“He said he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.” He shakes his head, runs a hand through already tousled hair. “I can’t talk to him when he already cut things off.”

“Uh, yeah you can,” Daniel says with a frown. “You pick up your phone and press ‘call.’ Technology’s amazing.” 

“That’s not what I meant. We’re over? I don’t mean shit to him and he doesn’t mean anything to me? That’s how it’s supposed to be.” 

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” asks Daniel, dropping his hands from Seongwoo’s shoulders. He glances away, reaching toward Seongwoo’s desk to grab blindly at something out of Seongwoo's periphery. “You sound like a complete stranger. You don’t even have physical copies of your university diplomas. You don’t care about pictures. You hate writing in journals. You’re one of the most unsentimental people I know, and yet, you start meeting this dude and all of a sudden, you start saving small, insignificant things like this old movie stub." There it is, offensive as always. "And you really think you can say _he doesn’t mean anything to you_? That easily?” 

Seongwoo freezes. “Daniel,” he says, exhaustion seeping through his voice. He pushes Daniel's hand away from his face. “I don’t have anything to say to him. He’s the one who said that we should stop meeting.” 

The frustration Seongwoo is seeing on Daniel’s face stems from consideration. This, he knows. But he can’t bring himself to waste his time on fruitless interaction just because it’s what his best friend thinks he ought to do. Seongwoo wants to believe that he knows himself better than Daniel will ever come to understand. Sure, Daniel might want the best for him but Seongwoo _knows_ best.

“I just think,” Daniel starts, “that maybe neither of you really said what needed to be said.” 

It’s just—Seongwoo doesn't always know best. He very rarely knows best, and this is something he's coming to terms with more and more with each passing day. He also knows that Daniel does understand. He understands too much because he’s known Seongwoo for too long and every single thing he’s telling him feels like a jab to Seongwoo’s chest. He probably knows that, too.

“Nothing needed to be—”

“I just _think_ that maybe the both of you still have things you want to say to each other.”

“Daniel,” he nearly pleads. “Just let it go.” 

“I’ve had to watch you put up with ridiculous expectations and ridiculous pressures since we were in middle school together.” Seongwoo knows this look on Daniel’s face. He’s seen it more than once before—a stable mix of concern, of unselfish sympathy, and of unspoken _you deserve better_ s. Daniel's tone is gentle despite the ferocity of his words. “Had to see you treat yourself like crap because you thought you weren’t good enough unless you exceeded a certain standard, unless you impressed a certain type of person.”

Seongwoo curls his fingers into his comforter. 

“You seemed so much happier ever since you met Minhyun,” he continues. “You were talking to this great guy that made you happy, made you good-stupid, made you feel like someone outside of your occupation, outside of your credentials, outside of who you _have_ to be too many hours of the week. You got to be whoever you wanted to be around this guy and I thought I’d finally get to see you letting yourself be happier. For the long-term.” 

“Daniel,” Seongwoo tries again. “Come on—”

“Were you happy with him?” Daniel asks. “Tell me honestly.”

And he can’t lie to Daniel, can’t even bother trying when he knows he’s an open book in front of him. Seongwoo laughs out of pity for himself, head dropping. “That doesn't matter.”

“It _does_ matter,” insists Daniel. “Were you happy with him or—”

“Yeah,” Seongwoo breathes out. “Of course.” 

“And are you happy now?” 

He grits his teeth and hates that he can’t even bring himself to smile. “No. Not really.”

Daniel sighs and when Seongwoo looks up, there’s an equally tired but unexpectedly relieved smile on Daniel’s lips. “You’re both grown ass men,” he says with a click of his tongue. “You’re really going to let this one go? Just because you’re scared of showing him how you really feel?” 

“Shouldn’t I?” Seongwoo hears himself ask aloud. 

“Talk it out with _him_ ,” Daniel urges, reaching out to squeeze Seongwoo's shoulder. “Figure out the answer to that question together.” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

For the most part, Seongwoo’s desk is well-organized. There are days when his room is in a jarring state of chaos, but his desk usually avoids the fallout. Magically, coincidentally, all of the above. Somehow, his desk is usually neat. 

Over the past few months, however, it’s definitely gotten messier. The stacks of work papers increase by the day and lost between the loose-leaves are admittedly stupid, sentimental things that he ought to throw out—but can’t bring himself to. It’s not as though he doesn’t know what these things are, _where_ these things are. 

He knows. He _knows_ that there’s a receipt from the Italian restaurant he and Minhyun went to on their first date being used as a bookmark for a case brief one of the junior associates wrote for him four weeks ago. There’s a crumpled movie stub now flattened atop his pillow, but it used to be in the pocket of the jacket he keeps draped over his chair. Lost somewhere in the contract conditions he’d been reviewing from a past M &A, there are photo booth picture strips. 

And so on, and so on, _and so on._. 

Seongwoo doesn’t need Daniel to tell him how much he likes Minhyun. He already knows, better than anyone else ever will, that Minhyun really has changed his life. And it sucks to admit it, but before he had to start nursing a broken heart, it had only ever been for the better. It’s hard to keep a tight hold on a good, great thing, and Seongwoo knows how to pick his battles; this isn't one he thinks he can win.

He lets out a soft sigh, pressing his hands to his eyes and trying, maybe in vain, to will the headache currently blooming behind his eye sockets out of his skull. He drops his arms back to his side, forcing himself up and out of bed instead. 

The rational part of him wants to believe that chasing something like _love_ isn’t worth it. The rational part of Seongwoo wants to believe that Minhyun was right when they first agreed to break things off—that a relationship like this wasn’t worth either of their careers. But the past few months have been a time of begrudging reflection and renewal. Seongwoo realized for the first time on their third date that maybe he’d been missing out on a lot of good things by clinging to logic and reason and focusing too hard on climbing a ladder with no end in sight. 

__

He remembers looking at Minhyun, features barely illuminated by the lights illuminating Cheonggyecheon at night, and thinking, _I'm in love with him and I don't even care if it doesn't make any sense._

It’s still early, just fifteen minutes past five in the morning. Seongwoo pulls the blinds of his window away and peers outside, eyes adjusting slowly to the faint blue glow of the city at dawn. 

He wants to be rational. He really does. He _wants_ to be smart about this but it’s hard when the first thing he thinks of upon drinking in the sight of the Seoul skyline is how badly he wishes the sun and the stars would align for him like they align for the rest of the city every morning. Maybe then he wouldn’t be standing alone. Maybe _then_ he wouldn’t be weighing everything on a scale, trying desperately to pile fickle technicalities on one side to avoid acknowledging that it’s always been Minhyun—it’ll always _be_ Minhyun that sits heaviest, deepest in his heart. 

Seongwoo presses his fingertips against the glass pane and breathes in sharply, air leaving him in a slow exhale. 

Daniel is right. This isn’t something he should be deciding on alone. To move forward, to sacrifice closure at the expense of his pride—it’d be selfish and it’d be unfair, not only to him, but to Minhyun, too. 

And right now, all Seongwoo wants is to do Minhyun right. 

The ring of the dial tone is remarkably gentle today. Seongwoo doesn’t speak immediately when he hears Minhyun’s voice, thick with sleep, whisper, “Hello?” from the other side of the line.

Rationality can wait. Some things, some people can’t. 

“Hey,” Seongwoo says softly. “It’s me. Can we talk?” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

Most people don’t like jogging outside in Seoul these days because the yellow dust is excessive and intimidating. There used to be braver souls that trekked to trails near the Han River, but these days especially, the parks are always quiet—particularly early in the morning before students start dragging their groggy selves to school and others, the same, to their daily engagements. 

It might not be the best place to meet up but there’s something special, soothing, about talking one-on-one in the middle of a wide, empty expanse that could pass as a world of their own. Nature’s quiet is the best sort of white noise for conversation; this is the only place Seongwoo could really imagine himself speaking candidly in. And today, maybe that's more important than anything. 

Minhyun’s already sitting on one of the vacant benches by the time Seongwoo arrives. There’s a hood pulled over his head and he’s hugging his arms to his chest. Seongwoo almost smiles. It’s typical of Minhyun to still be cold when the sun is stretched out and unabashed before them. 

Seongwoo is deliberate with each step he takes closer and his fingertips are already tugging the facemask covering his mouth down by the time Minhyun finally takes notice of him. 

They don’t exchange pleasantries immediately. They look at each other and Seongwoo realizes, in that exact moment, that he can’t remember the last time he really saw Minhyun like this: disheveled, exhausted, bare. 

The dark circles beneath Minhyun’s eyes are darker today, deep bruises against an already pale complexion that looks borderline sickly this morning, as though he hasn’t slept in a long, long while. Knowing Minhyun, that might be the truth, and Seongwoo hesitates, stops himself from asking because he’s scared too of turning baby steps into a full-on sprint. Beneath the hood of his sweater, Minhyun looks especially young, _especially_ vulnerable, and it softens the remaining stubbornness in Seongwoo’s heart to nothing. 

“Hey,” Seongwoo greets first. “Am I late? Did you wait long?”

“I just got here,” Minhyun replies. He falters, lips parted as though he has something more to say. A few seconds pass, and they feel like hours. He closes his mouth abruptly instead, tongue peeking out to sweep across his lips nervously. Whatever Minhyun had initially wanted to say is swallowed back and in its stead, he asks, “How’s your workload these days?”

Seongwoo takes a seat, leaving a safe distance between them out of courtesy. Both of them gaze forward, away from each other. Seongwoo counts the trees in the distance and he wonders what Minhyun’s focusing on to keep from cracking under pressure. 

“Not the worst it could be,” Seongwoo says with a half-hearted shrug. “What about you?”

“More or less the same. We got the client but apparently your firm stepped back anyway?”

“Boa noona’s good at picking her battles.” Seongwoo hums. “I should really learn from her.” 

Silence sits in the middle, extra obtrusive today. He wants to navigate around it but that’s for later. Right now, there are things to be said, things to be explained, and Seongwoo has no time to keep stalling—to keep _running_ away. 

“Your message from yesterday morning,” he begins, turning to look at the side of Minhyun’s face. He doesn’t want this to be anything like a confrontation so he takes a pause to breathe, to ease his nerves out of the knot that they’re in before he asks, “What was that about?” 

Minhyun tenses regardless. “What do you mean?” He doesn't budge an inch. “It was pretty straightforward, wasn’t it?” 

“Was it?” Seongwoo smiles faintly, fiddling with the brim of his cap to keep his hands busy for a second. “I didn’t think it was. It felt like you were breaking up with me all over again. Except this time, I had no idea why.” 

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun immediately apologizes, vague distress apparent in his eyes when he finally _looks_ at Seongwoo. He must realize belatedly, too, that he doesn't want to make eye contact because he tears his gaze away not even a second after. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t… I really didn’t mean for it to read like that. I just—I just thought I needed some space. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I know it wasn’t.” He straightens up, faces forward once more. The sun is higher in the sky now, the horizon a little brighter. Even the birds are starting to chirp louder. Seongwoo breathes out slowly. “It wasn’t yours either, though.” He lifts one hand and tugs his cap off, setting it on his lap. “Was it hard being friends with me?” 

“Did you call me out here just to make me feel like an idiot?” Minhyun’s voice is tight. “I want to be happy for you, Seongwoo. Please don’t make it any harder than it already is.” 

“I’m not asking you to mock you.” He kicks his shoe against the dirt beneath it. “I’m asking you because I really need to know.”

“ _Yes_ , it was hard,” Minhyun retorts, jaw clenched. “It was mind-numbingly hard. I didn’t push you away because I wanted to. It happened because I thought it was supposed to and when I realized that maybe it wasn’t, I thought I could fix things, convince you to give me some more time—to _wait_ for me, but I—I should have known I was being selfish.” The frenetic edge to Minhyun’s words ebbs into resignation, into something akin to defeat. He almost looks sorry. “It was too hard being _just_ your friend. It was too _hard_ thinking about you with some stranger, thinking about how if you ever came to me with good news I would have to grin and bear it as _just_ your friend. It was hard. Hah, god. It was hard.” 

Seongwoo bites his lower lip. “It was hard for me, too. Why do you think I pulled such a stupid stunt to try to convince you I moved on?"

The incredulous, self-deprecating smile on Minhyun’s face falls almost immediately. “What?” he whispers.

“I was lying,” Seongwoo clarifies. “Back when I said I moved on? I was lying. It seemed like you were totally fine, totally content with wherever the hell you were going in life while I was just lagging behind, still completely and embarrassingly hung up on you. You had me thinking I really did just waste your time.” 

Minhyun falls silent. 

“So, I thought I’d pretend everything was fine over on my end too so you wouldn’t feel bad for me. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me because there you were, making these big decisions for your career like it was _nothing_ , and there _I_ was, struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that the first person I really fell in love with tells me they’re not worth it, that I should look for better than them.” He leans his head back, eyes closed, opening them soon after and seeing only clouds and vein-like branches clinging to leaves. “Want to hear me out on something?” 

No response, and then, too-quietly, “Do I even have a choice?” 

“Nope.” Seongwoo laughs. “Not today, sorry.” 

He isn’t prepared for this conversation in the slightest. He’d gone into his phone call with Minhyun with little thought, too. Seongwoo had figured it would be easier, simpler this way; every word out of his mouth would be organic, less prone to being dissected through a mental filter that he doesn’t want muddling his intentions anymore. 

“Let’s give it a try,” he says. “Giving up before anything even happens... That just doesn’t sit right with me. Minhyun, I know that there are a lot of really terrible, shitty things that could happen to us if we tried being together. Maybe we’ll fight a shit ton. Maybe we’ll break up again in a week. But _maybe_ we won’t. Maybe we’ll figure things out along the way. Maybe we’ll learn to balance things. Maybe we’ll be okay.

“I understand if you’re wary because I am, too. I don’t like taking risks. Not unless they’re calculated and in my favor—neither of which I can confirm for us. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize I don’t really care. The past few months I’ve had you in my life, I’ve learned a lot about how precious every day is and how important it is for me to do things that’ll make me happy, not just _proud_. You make me happy, as gross as I sound right now. You make me really fucking happy and I get that you’re worried, that you’re scared, that you don’t want to take chances on someone who can’t promise you the world. But if you let me, Minhyun, I’ll try. I’ll try and I’ll try and I’ll try until I can. What do you say?” 

The ache he’s been nursing at his solar plexus since Minhyun first suggested they go their separate ways dulls more and more with each passing second until all Seongwoo feels is _lightness_. 

Minhyun clamps his eyes shut. “You never wasted my time.” There is a tired fondness to the way he’s speaking now, moving now; it radiates off of his body like warmth. He turns his head and beckons Seongwoo to turn his too. Their eyes lock again, but this time, Minhyun doesn’t look away. “Do you hear me? You were _never_ a waste of my time.” 

“Okay.” Seongwoo smiles. “Sure.”

“God,” Minhyun mutters. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met in my _life_ , Ong Seongwoo.” 

“Okay.” His smile grows wider. “Sure.”

“What kind of selfless asshole calls out the person who broke their heart and forgives them _and_ loves them in the same breath?” The smile on Minhyun’s face is small but growing and Seongwoo _loves_ it. “Are you really okay with this?”

Seongwoo ventures, bridges the gap separating them to take Minhyun’s hand in his. “Okay with what?”

“With me,” answers Minhyun, eyes fixed on their interlocked hands. He glances up, looks sheepish as he sighs softly. “Are you really okay with me?” 

The little bundle of resolve that’s been growing in Seongwoo’s ribcage pushes him forward. He lifts one hand to cup Minhyun’s cheek and lifts the other to hide their faces with his baseball cap as he leans in and kisses Minhyun. 

The jolt of something electric that courses through Seongwoo's blood makes him think: _How did I ever think I could live without this?_

When they pull apart, they close the distance again until their foreheads are pressed to one another, breaths warm on each other's lips as Seongwoo says, “I’m _only_ okay with you.” 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

 **Ong Seongwoo:** what do you want to do tonight?  
  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Dinner?  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** what do you want to eat?  
  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Ramen?  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** are you asking me if i want to eat ramen at your place? ;)  
  
**Hwang Minhyun:** No. At yours.  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** oh  
**Ong Seongwoo:** and then what ;)  
  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Clean?  
  
**Ong Seongwoo:** …  
**Ong Seongwoo:** clean……………?  
**Ong Seongwoo:** wtf is this lingo for  
  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Lingo? It's not lingo...  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Seongwoo, I seriously mean we should clean. Your room is a mess. You can’t live like this.  
**Hwang Minhyun:** As your boyfriend, I'm going to make sure that you stop relying on cup ramen three meals a day and that I can see the floor of your room at least five days of the week.  
**Hwang Minhyun:** This is my love language :)  
**Hwang Minhyun:** Too late to back out now.

 

Seongwoo stifles a too-fond smile behind his palm and leans back in his chair, completely oblivious to Boa passing by the break room with a wry smirk on her face. 

"Having fun?" she calls out, the lilt in her voice much too teasing for Seongwoo's liking.

He nearly falls out of his chair in response, just barely managing to send the last text before he gets up, heart thumping rapidly for more reasons than one. Seongwoo grins in spite of himself, stretching his arms up over his head as he slots his phone into his back pocket and strolls out of the break room to get back to his job.

 

 **Ong Seongwoo:** why do you need my room to be clean though ;)  
  
**Kang Daniel:** Hey buddy if you accidentally sext me ever again I’m moving out 

 

 

 

 

 

✐✐✐

 

 

 

 

 

“What the fuck—”  
  
“Language.”  
  
“What the _heck_ do you mean your significant other is Attorney Park?”  
  
Boa does not even look the slightest bit ruffled by Seongwoo’s never-ending well of shock. “I mean exactly that,” she says coolly. “You asked who my significant other is and because I’m proud of you for finally figuring out how to manage your life like an adult, I thought I’d tell you.”  
  
“But—but, _but_ ,” Seongwoo splutters. “What? How? How is that not—not illegal? Is that not the _definition_ of conflict of interest?”  
  
“It’s only a conflict of interest if I let it become one,” Boa replies. This entire conversation is too easy for her, and frankly, Seongwoo feels incredibly wronged by how the entire world and human population is like a game for her. On easy level. “That, and if people know, which they don’t.”  
  
“I know,” Seongwoo says aloud. “I _know_ now.”  
  
“Are you going to tell someone, Seongwoo? Announce it to the entire firm at our next quarterly meeting?” She crosses her arms. “I highly doubt it. You can’t even say Kahi’s name without stuttering.”  
  
“You are so scary,” he says instead. “You—You are both _scary_.”  
  
“The key to success is picking and choosing the people you keep close to you.” Boa flashes the smile that won her the ‘Most Beautifully Intimidating Attorney Award’ eight years in a row, dethroning Kim Heechul over in taxation. “You don’t make partner without taking a few risks, Seongwoo.”  
  
There’s a pause and Seongwoo’s phone vibrates, screen lighting up with five consecutive messages from Minhyun, who is probably having this exact conversation with Kahi, all expressing the same general sentiment, which is: _Wtf???? WTF??? what the Fuck?????_  
  
Boa’s eyes glint knowingly. “I’m glad you’re learning to start taking a few of your own.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: "do you want to eat ramen (at my house) before you go?" is the korean equivalent of "netflix and chill" which is why seongwoo is teasing minhyun w/ the winky faces.
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>  **dearest recipient** , thank you for the fun prompt suggestion! i would have loved to expand further on this universe and given you something infinitely more substantive but the stars were too stubborn to align. despite being a little short on time, i still had fun writing this for you and my only hope is that you enjoy it just the tiniest bit ♡


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